Hold On, Hold Strong
by TeamElijahnKlaus
Summary: When Baker Street is invaded by the one and only Isabel Watson, Sherlock has to face the single worst thing he has ever encountered... A high-functioning socialite [Sherlock/ OC]
1. Knowing Me

Today was just not his day. First Sherlock had decided that he was bored and had so immediately set about shooting the yellow smiley face on the wall, and now his Izzy was not picking up her phone.

'Izzy, it's me, John. Would it kill you to pick up the phone sometimes? Where are you? You said you'd be here by 9 and its already gone 10. Just-just call me back when you get this.' He had just hung up when Sherlock's phone rang and the shooting abruptly stopped, only to be replaced by the voice of the elder Holmes.

'Sherlock, John. There is a car outside to collect you.' John rolled his eyes, moving towards the phone so as to speak to Mycroft.

'Mycroft, I can't really talk right now. I need to locate my sister.' He turned to called her again only to hear the words that made his blood run cold.

'Well you see John, it's about her.'

…

Both Sherlock and John had been taken to an empty, cold office, all white walls and angles. Sherlock was perched on the edge of his seat, looking out of the open window and towards the iconic landscape of London, obviously in his mind palace, while John was pacing, waiting for anything. Soon enough Mycroft entered the room, nodding to his brother and partner in crime before seating himself leisurely behind the desk.

'Mycroft. Where is she?' John got straight to the point, glaring at the composed man sitting in front of him.

'That's why we called you here. It pains me to say this but… I don't know.'

'How can you not-'

'Ran off with the secretary. You have a temp, first day, doesn't know his way round the office. He was packing up the desk from the previous owner. There were more than a few photos of a woman with a very similar bone structure to John.' He turned to John, ' Blonde hair, Brown eyes same as yours. Am I correct?'

Just as John said 'Yes.' Mycroft spoke, shaking his head.

'No. Close though, little brother. Jake Tyler, the secretary, he died. Yesterday. From what we can tell, he was shot protecting Isabel.'

'Why would someone be shooting at Izzy?' John asked, confused. This prompted an eye roll from both brothers as Sherlock stood and began pacing, almost imitating John's earlier movements.

'They weren't shooting at her; he just got in the way. They need her as a hostage, meaning she is important to you, Mycroft, and so to the government. No ordinary girl would be taken, that happened every day; and from the car journey and the view I would guess that we are in the Shard; or more accurately, the floor bought by MI6 just over a year ago. That would mean that the girl, Isabel, is part of the Covert Operations. Yet that leaves us with the question, John, of why you didn't know your sister was a spy.'

…

Watson was sat, his mouth gaping at the revelation of his sister's true occupation. Sherlock had given up on finding an answer from him, assuming that he was just not observant as always, and had turned to question Mycroft. 'And you- why are you recruiting them so young. Unlike trashy novels would have humans believe there is no need for children in the secret service. So why?' Mycroft sat back, toying with his signature umbrella in his hands before speaking slowly and deliberately.

'She was … gifted, and so was noticed by the wrong people. We brought her in, trained her up and sent her out into the field.'

'Wait-' John interrupted, 'my sister is 22, she just graduated. How would you have had the time to do that after her leaving school?' This caused an instant reaction from Holmes as he whipped around to stare at his partner.

'John, John, John… they got to her much earlier than that. From the age of say… 14?' He glanced at his brother who nodded.

'But she's a child!-' He was cut off by Sherlock who had fully turned back to Mycroft and was already assessing the situation.

'Do you know who she was taken by?'

'The Pravda have owned up… They also left a couple of messages.' He turned his computer screen at an approximately 45 angle, so as to face Sherlock and John. 'This is the second.' There, sat on the screen were just two lines of writing, sent from an, obviously fake, email address.

_Tick Tock goes the clock_

_Till your agent__'__s heart stops_

John stared at the screen, trying to process everything he had just been told, while Sherlock merely spared a glance at both him and the email before turning to Mycroft.

'What was the first message?'

'It's in her apartment. The car can take you.'

'Aren't you coming?' John looked at the elder Holmes. Though he admittedly scared him, it was his sister's life at stake and he knew that one Holmes was better than anyone, and two Holmes' would be even better.

'No. If anything else appears I will be sure to notify you. I don't particularly like going out in the field, though I'm sure Sherlock could tell you that.' He raised an eyebrow at his brother who merely grabbed John's upper arm and marched him through the building and out to the car.

The car ride was sat in a painful silence, only interrupted by the sound of Sherlock franticly typing on his phone, searching for something John had not been privy to. When they finally arrived at the house they were unsurprised to see that not of the usual team was there, all having probably been ushered out by MI6's own 'crime squad'. They were marched up the stairs by a tall, greying man, who didn't speak, and left in the apartment alone. They did not have to look hard to find the first message; it was scrawled across the wall in red paint, an obvious attempt to scare the people involved due to its association with blood.

_Eeny, Meny, Miny, Mo_

_Caught the agent by her toe_

_If you wiggle we__'__ll let her go_

_Eeny, Meny, Miny, Mo_

Sherlock grinned and spun on the balls of his feet, clapping his hands together and smiling like a child.

'Ah, finally. Someone who has half a brain.' John's eyes narrowed as he spoke quietly.

'You're enjoying this.'

'Well now John you've known-' He was cut off as a hand sailed into his face, sending him flying back onto the floor. He looked up in genuine shock, 'You hit me.'

'This is my sister's life on the line! Not some faceless person, Sherlock!'

'You hit me.' He repeated, standing slowly and staring at his friend.

'You deserved it.'

'Fine.' He turned and reached out to touch the wall, examining it for a second before taking his phone out of his pocket and typing furiously.

'Are you going to tell me what's going on?'

'No, now shut up.' He muttered, finding what he was looking for before striding out the room and nodding to the agent that had led them up. 'John, go to the house. I need you to find everything you know about the Pravda. You,' He nodded to the agent, 'With me.' His attention was diverted once again as he received a text.

_Hickory Dickory Dock_

_You know where to find us Sherlock_

_When the clock strikes one_

_You better run_

_Hickory Dickory Dock_

He glanced at his watch, noting the time of 12:45, before striding along London Bridge Street, followed by the agent. 'It's simple really. The paint had to come from within walking distance, it was freshly mixed. The emulsifiers in it had not been needed yet and there were still small amounts of the original colours seeping through. That means it needed to be within 10 minutes, so on this street. The only DIY shop on this street that mixes its own paint.' He stopped outside a small shop named _Truth__'__s DIY_, putting a hand on the gun hidden in his jacket as he nodded to the sign. 'No average human would have noticed. The Pravda in Russian translates as either 'The Truth,' or 'The Justice,' they chose the less conspicuous. They knew both my brother and Watson had a link to her. They wanted me, and now they are going to get me.' He stepped into the shop, pulling out the gun and searching the seemingly empty store for only a few moments before muttering under his breath, 'Stupid, stupid.' and moving to an empty shelving unit, 'Why would there be an empty shelf in a store other than to do _this!__'_He picked up a shelf, moving it out the way before drawing his leg back and kicking through the back of the unit into a dank, hidden hallway. He headed down the hallway, keeping his gun pointed ahead should anyone try to attack. He was not disappointed. A huge beast of a man barrelled towards him, wrenching the gun from his hand, allowing him a millisecond to jab the man in the solar plexus, quickly followed by the nose then groin, before pushing him towards the agent who chopped him in the neck, effectively incapacitating him.

They finally reached the end of the hallway, with only one door, which looked like it was falling off its hinges. 'One way in, one way out. This is getting easier by the second.' Sherlock muttered, opening the door after typing a quick text. Inside of the room he was met with the surprising sight of the girl he was looking for surrounded by a pile of bodies. She turned towards him, hands on hip and raised an eyebrow humorously, 'You're a bit late aren't you?'


	2. Knowing You

He carefully stepped over the unconscious body of a rather large man to stand in front of her, analysing her within a second before smiling slightly as she sat back n the chair which she had obviously previously been tied to, judging by the coiled rope around it. 'So, you must be Sherlock Holmes. John's partner in crime and Mycroft's little bro.' she leaned forward, putting elbows on her knees and bridging her hand under her chin. 'Well, Mr. Holmes. What can you deduce from me?' Sherlock's smiled changed to a smirk as he leaned towards her.

'22 years old, studied Zoology overseas, Norway was it? Recently returned to England as your mission was over-'

'And you could have learned all that from talking to my brother or Mycroft. Tell me something _no one _knows.'

'You're a less-than-amateur horse rider. Always wanted a cat and recently acquired one. Named it something not of the norm, a real name, not one of the obscene 'cutesy' names of today. You are right-handed but favour your left in physical activities. You don't sleep much and have some issues with your weight… Did I get everything right?' Isabel smirked, standing and moving towards Sherlock, going as if to kiss his cheek but changing at the last second to whisper in his ear, 'Not even close.' She brushed past him, walking into the hallway and leaving him standing, stunned. She quickly spun to look at the tall man before folding her arms over her chest and sighing as if to an impetuous child. 'Well, are you coming Mr. Holmes? Don't want to keep John and Mycroft waiting, do we?' he shook himself out of his stupor and followed, raising an eyebrow at her abnormally long strides. She nodded to the agent, who had waited in the hallway, before moving to exit the stop and jogging down the street. He lengthened his stride to keep up and spoke quietly.

'What was wrong?' She shook her head, smirking.

'Everything you said was my cover. In actuality I am a quite good horse rider, if I do say so myself. I own two in the Hyde Park Stables. That reminds me, I need to see them tomorrow.' She scrunched her eyebrows, taking a mental memo. 'I _hate _cats with a passion, though I did acquire one recently for my cover, Himalayan, horrible temper. Love dogs though. Left handed. I didn't have much time to sleep, getting abducted and all.' She sped up as they reached the Shard, jogging up the stairs and just reaching the right level before turning back to Sherlock, 'And Mr. Holmes, you should never talk about a girls weight.' she turned to the intercom and pressed the button, a voice came through the speaker a moment later.

'Hello, this is Seraph Enterprises. How may I help?'

'Hey T. You getting the images now?' She spoke quietly.

'Bright and clear, you're through.' The voice replied, the door opening.

'Am I to assume that there are precisely twenty four deadly weapons trained on the both of us at this moment?' Sherlock asked.

'Yep.' She grinned, greeting the odd person who passed by, not caring in the least about the state she was in. Her face was currently smudged with ash, some of which was also in her hair. Her top was a muddy brown, most of the original pink obscured, and her denim jeans, though still having light grey hairs of her cat caught on them, were in tatters, showing most of her legs. She finally reached Mycroft's office and pulled the door open wide, making a dramatic entrance, perfect for her personality, before striding confidently to Mycroft and engulfing him in a hug which Sherlock was genuinely surprised to see him return adamantly. As she pulled back he caught sight of a cheeky grin on her face. 'Aww, don't tell me old Mycroft was worried for little me.'

'Of course not, I knew you'd be fine.' Both Sherlock and Izzy snorted at his obvious lie.

'Sure you did.' She gave him a kiss on the cheek before looking thoughtful for a moment. 'What happened to Jake? They used Chloroform on me. _Typical._ I passed out before I saw what happened.' Their identical expressions told her everything she needed to know and her face fell for a second before she nodded slowly, clasping her hands together and turning to Sherlock. 'I assume you are going back to 221b Baker Street?' He nodded wordlessly before turning and stalking out, still disgruntled. She shared a tight lipped smile with Mycroft before turning and following, only catching him as he slid into a cab. The ride was short and sufficiently awkward, making Izzy sigh in relief as the cab stopped. She instantly jumped out of the cab, opening the unlocked door and bolting up the stairs, followed slowly by Sherlock who found the brother and sister embracing and having a quiet conversation, 'You're staying here tonight, you here me? I'm not letting my little sister out of my sight after what happened...'

'I wouldn't want to _intrude_ on you and Sherlock.'

'It would be no trouble.' John spoke just as Sherlock replied, 'Yes, why don't you leave?' John groaned, shaking his head at his flatmate.

'Ignore him.'

'Oh, don't worry, I will. He's just sour because he couldn't figure me out.' She smirked at the consulting detective who picked up his violin, making John repeat his groan.

'Sherlock. She's my sister!'

'Yes. And?' He looked up innocently, scraping the bow across the strings of the violin in a painful sound.

'And she can stay as long as she needs.'

'I don't like her.' He spoke quietly and Izzy grinned, moving to sit on the arm of the armchair Sherlock was currently residing in.

'Oh don't lie Sherlock. It doesn't suit you. You like it, the not understanding something for once in your life. You're bored, so am I.' He glanced up at her, scowling.

'Get off my seat.' His voice was low and dangerous.

'Hmm. No, I don't think I will.' She smirked at the disgruntled Sherlock before turning to John, 'He's a little bit possessive isn't he? Doesn't like sharing.' She stood, stretching her arms over her head and yawning. 'Where am I staying tonight? On the sofa?' John shook his head.

'No, take my bed.'

'John don't be an idiot. I know how bad your back is. I'll take the sofa.'

'You've just gone through a traumatic situation.' She shrugged.

'Not that traumatic. Sherlock was late so I had to do everything myself. All he really did was call a taxi.'

'Oh shut up!' Sherlock scraped a note on his violin, making them cover their ears from the sound.

'Fine.' Izzy jumped onto the sofa, turning over and closing her eyes as if going to sleep.

**A/N: So Sherlock and Izzy aren't exactly best friends, but it can only get better... right?**


	3. Scarred For Life

**A/N: So another update in just an hour. Oh how i spoil you lot ;) But seriously, please review at the end if you enjoyedit, if you hated it, or if you picked up on the purple shirt of sex :P**

She woke the next morning to find that she had been moved while unconscious into a bedroom which she realised was not John's. She stripped out of her clothes and took a quick shower before she grabbed a man's purple shirt with some boxers and slipped them on before moving out of the room and into the main room of the flat. There was no sign of John but Sherlock was sat on the sofa, glaring at the screen, wrapped in a towel. Izzy made herself a cup of coffee before moving towards the sofa and plopping down to see the previously fuzzy screen change to one of John's frowning face. 'You realise this is a tiny bit humiliating?' Sherlock merely waved it away, glancing at Isabel with disgust.

'It's ok, I'm fine.' He sighed, putting his own mug of tea to his mouth and taking a long gulp as John noticed her sitting there. His eyes widened comically as he realised what she was wearing.

'Izzy... Why are you wearing Sherlock's clothes?' She rolled her eyes at his comment.

''Oh, we just had a passionate love making session. Joking!' She added as she noticed Johns face paling as if he was about to keel over. 'No, I just needed something to wear and seeing as is woke up in his room I decided i may as well use his stuff.' She moved closer to Sherlock, just touching the edge of his sheet as she spoke. 'Can i share? It's really cold- Oh My God!' She had lifted up the sheet and quickly dropped it, covering her eyes with her hands, 'That I did not need to see!' Sherlock ignored her and just shuffled the sheet around so that it was wrapped around him tighter.

'John, show me the stream.' John let out a disgruntled sigh which Sherlock immediately reacted to. 'Look, this is a six.' As he spoke he stood, moving around the apartment, grabbing a blanket and throwing it at Izzy before returning, making her grin wickedly. As he moved back, he focused on the image, having a hard time ignoring Izzy who had decided to toy with him by shuffling closer and putting an arm around his shoulder, putting her head on his shoulder and hand on his chest. 'There's no point in me leaving the flat for anything less than a seven. We agreed. Now go back, show me the grass.' This caught Izzy's attention and she removed her hand from his chest, leaning forward to look at the laptop, speaking quietly.

'Interesting...'

'When did we agree to that?' John asked, complying to Sherlock's wishes.

'We agreed to it yesterday. Stop!' Sherlock leant forward, his head next to Izzy's as they stared at the screen, 'Closer.' Instead of complying John swung the laptop around to look at the two geniuses.

'I stayed at Eugenie's yesterday night, as soon as Izzy fell asleep.' Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly.

It's hardly _my_ fault you weren't listening.' The doorbell rung, snapping the two of them out of their daze and making Sherlock growl, 'SHUT UP!' The ringing stopped and he turned back to John, who rolled his eyes.

'Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?'

'How often are you away? Now show me the car that backfired.' Izzy shook her head.

'The car is nothing to do with this. All that matters with it is that it backfired.' Sherlock glanced at her, half smiling at the quick deductions. They turned back to the screen to look at the car.

'That's the one?' John's voice came from the speakers, exasperated.

'Yeah. And if you're thinking gunshot, there wasn't one. He wasn't shot; he was killed by a single blow to the back of the head by a blunt instrument which magically disappeared along with the killer. That's got to be an eight at least.' Another voice sounded from the link.

''You've got two minutes, then I want to know more about the driver.' Sherlock waved a hand dismissively.

'Oh forget him, he's an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect`?'

'I think him a suspect!' An unfamiliar face filled the screen.

'Pass me over.'

All right, but there is a mute button and I _will _use it.' John passed it over, accidentally titling it to far down the body of the policeman. ''Up a bit! I'm not talking from down here.'

'Though I don't mind.' Izzy smirked as Sherlock sent a frustrated glance at her.

'What are you even doing here?' She just smiled sweetly kissing his cheek and leaving a red stain from the red lipstick which had miraculously stayed in place through everything that had happened to her. A cough pulled them out of their silent communication and they both simultaneously turned to look at the man they had both labelled as _idiot. _

'Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness why would he then call the police and consult a detective, fair play?' His logic obvious took the man aback.

'He's trying to be clever. Overconfidence.'

'Did you see him? Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve of an internet porn addict and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy – and you think he's an audacious criminal mastermind?!' Sherlock turned to look at a man which Izzy had noticed at once but decided not to comment on. 'Don't worry. This is just stupid.'

'Sorry, heart what?' The man asked nervously. Sherlock just ignored him, turning back to the laptop after sharing a glance with Izzy.

'Now, go to the stream.'

'What's in the stream?'

'Go and see.' John took the laptop back and they watched, only to be interrupted as Mrs Hudson came in, followed by two men wearing suits.

'Oh sorry Sherlock, I didn't know you had company. You weren't answering your doorbell.' She gushed as the two men stepped into the room, one pointing to Sherlock's room.

'His room's through the back. Get him some clothes.' The man left and Sherlock stared at the remaining one.

'Who the hell are you?' He spoke indignantly and Izzy rolled her eyes.

'Sherlock don't bother.'

'Sorry Mr. Holmes, Miss Watson. You're coming with us.' He reached forward to put the lid of the laptop on the keyboard before grabbing Holmes by the arm and standing him up. 'Please Mr Holmes, where you're going you'll want to be dressed.' Sherlock quickly analysed the man before smiling.

'Believe me; I know exactly where I'm going.'


	4. Trouserless in the Palace

**A/N: Wow, already a hundred of you guys have read this story in less than twenty four hours. Thank you so much!**

The man shrugged and gestured to him to exit the house and go into the black car. As soon as they were inside Izzy looked over at Sherlock, moving her head to the side of his and speaking softly. 'Where are we going?' He raised an eyebrow at her curiously.

'Why don't you think for yourself?'

'I'm lazy, why would I do something for myself that you had already done?'

'Fine, the Palace.'

'Ok.' She nodded, glancing over him towards the window.

'Someone just took a picture of you on there camera phone. You're being watched.' She muttered before sighing and leaning her head on his shoulder. After a moment of silence Sherlock spoke up.

'Why are you doing that?' She looked up at his half smiling face and grinned cheekily.

'I'm still tired from having to take out six people on my own, and however unnaturally twiggy you are, your shoulder is comfortable.'

'Oh, I'm glad I have some usefulness for you.' He glanced down at her, his eyes glinting with humour.

'No… You have so many more uses than that… like I can use your cheekbones as a can opener if I'm ever in need.' He let out a slight chuckle at her words, looking straight ahead. She smiled slightly before moving to nuzzle into his shoulder, muttering quietly, 'This doesn't mean I am on any better terms with you. It just means you're comfy.' She could feel him nod and relax slightly.

'I feel exactly the same.' Nevertheless she could feel a hand on her hair, softly stroking it as the muted noises of London drew her into sleep.

…

She awoke to the sensation of the car stopping. As it rolled to a gentle stop she looked up through blurry eyes to see the amused face of Sherlock looking down at her.

'What's so funny?' She growled, slightly self conscious.

'You look like hell.' He smirked, though it lessened as she hit him on the shoulder, climbing out of the car and following the agent into the heart of Buckingham Palace. Sherlock followed at a more leisurely pace, his sheet still draped over his body in a tog-like fashion. They finally reached a parlour with two large sofas set opposite each other. They sat on the sofa stoically, not deigning to speak until the doors opened and John stepped through, looking wonderingly at the grandeur of the Palace. He looked at the two of them, noticing the way they sat closer together, not arguing and Izzy even leaning slightly on Sherlock's shoulder. He decided not to comment and merely raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, silently asking about the nature of their visit. He received a shrug in return as John walked towards him, sitting on Sherlock's other side and trying to keep the question he desperately wanted to ask inside. Eventually he couldn't take anymore and turned to Sherlock, asking, 'Are you wearing any pants?' Sherlock turned to him after smirking at Izzy.

'Nope.' Izzy blushed red, looking down at her hands and muttering angrily, 'you could have given me some warning.'

John pursed his lips and said, 'Okay.' they managed a few seconds before both he Sherlock burst out laughing, 'at Buckingham Palace, fine.' He tried to get himself under control before speaking again. 'Oh, I'm fighting the impulse to steal an ashtray.' Sherlock chuckled, nudging Izzy lightly, who smirked before nodding.

'What are we doing here Sherlock? Seriously, what?' Sherlock kept smiling, shaking his head.

'I don't know.'

'Here to see the queen?' at that second Mycroft walked in, causing Izzy to jump up and give him a quick hug, causing Sherlock to growl under his breath to John, 'Oh, apparently yes.' At that John cracked up for a second time, causing all three of them to burst into fits, leaving an exasperated Mycroft glaring at them.

'Just once, can you lot behave like grown-ups?'

Izzy raised her hand mockingly, 'Oh sir, sir! I know the answer to this one… No.' John shook his head, smirking at the antics.

'We solve crimes, I blog about it, and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope.' Sherlock became serious, looking up at his brother.

'I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft.'

'What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?'

'Transparent.' Sherlock said as Izzy nodded, while John looked between the two of them, confused.

'Time to move on them.' Mycroft said. He picked up the clothes, offering them to Sherlock who refused to accept them, childishly. 'We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on.' he spoke as a mother would to her child, which made Sherlock respond just as childishly.

'What for?'

'Your client.'

'And my client is? Sherlock stood, glaring at his brother.

'Illustrious…' a middle aged man walked into the room, causing Sherlock to turn and glare at him. 'In the extreme. And remaining- I have to inform you- entirely anonymous.' He glanced to Mycroft and his face broke into a smile, 'Mycroft!' He spoke with false enthusiam as he shook his hand.

'Harry.' Mycroft responded with the same fake niceties. 'May I just apologise for the state of my little brother?' Sherlock glared at his brother as the man responded.

'Full-time occupation, I imagine.' he smirked at the younger Holmes before turning to John, 'And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.'

'Hello, yes.' He shook the man's hand.

'My employed is a tremendous fan of your blog.' John pulled back, looking confused.

'Your employer?' The man ignored the comment to continue singing John's praises.

'Particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminium crutch.' John perked up at that, smiling.

'Thank you!' He glanced at Sherlock and Izzy, clearing his throat smugly.

'Any Mr. Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs. And who are you?' He glanced towards Izzy, who immediately bristled.

'You don't have a high enough clearance.' she growled just before Sherlock spoke.

I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend. By that I mean John, she,' He nodded to Izzy, 'is not a friend… what is your point again?' He shook his head and walked back John to approach his brother. 'Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends is too much work.' Izzy let out a barking cough to try and disguise a laugh.

'And you call me lazy.' she muttered.

'Actually you call yourself that,' he turned to the man, 'Good morning.' With an air of finality he moved to walk out the room, only to be impeded by Mycroft stepping on the end of his sheet, making it fall off the top half of hid body as he hurried to try and preserve from modesty.

'This is a matter of national importance. Grow up.' Mycroft glared at his brother who slowly turned.

'Get off my sheet!' he said through gritted teeth.

'Or what?' Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him.

'Or I'll just walk away.' Sherlock turned to walk.

'I'll let you.' Izzy whistled through her teeth at Mycroft's comment and half smiled.

'As long as you face that way I don't mind. I'm probably not the first to say that you have a fine-' John quickly cut her off.

'Izzy, if you finish that sentence I will never let you out in public again.' He turned to Mycroft and Sherlock. 'Now let's just talk this out.'

Sherlock ignored him, speaking angrily, 'Who. Is. My. Client?' Mycroft snorted, gesturing around him.

'Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the lad. Now for god's sake…' He stopped to try and calm himself. 'Put your clothes on!' Sherlock closed his eyes before turning and holding a hand out for the clothes.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Remember to leave a review :)**


	5. Not A Pleasure

**A/N: Wow that you so much guys! I'm already at 200 views in under twenty four hours. I had been planning to put this chapter out tomorrow but since you guys are so nice I thought i would be too.**

A few minutes later Sherlock was dressed and sat back down on the sfoa, glaring at his brother, who was glancing at the tea set. Mycroft began to pour tea, trying to joke, 'I'll be mother.' Sherlock leaneed back and raised an eyebrow pointedly at him, nudging shoulders with Izzy.

'And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell.' Mycroft immediately glared at him, putting down the teapot. The other older man cleared his throat before addressing Sherlock.

'My employer has a problem.'

'A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen.' Mycroft explained.

'Why? You have a police forst of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service-'

'Hey!' Izzy elbowed him but Sherlock ignored her and continued.

'Why come to me?'

'People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr. Holmes?' The man spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

'Not, to date, anyone with a Navy.'

'Lie.' Izzy muttered.

'This is a matter of highest security, and therefore of trust.' Mycroft said.'

'You don't trust your own Secret Service?' John asked, incredulous.

'Naturally not. They all spy on people for money.' Mycroft smiled at Izzy who growled.

'Nice to know that's what you think of me dear Microsoft.' At this jab John bit back a grin which was threatening to emerge.

'I do think we have a timetable.' The man raised an eyebrow at Mycroft, unsure about the blonde girl who was current seeming to communicate with Sherlock without words.

'Yes, of course. Um…' He opened his briefcase to take out a picture of a very familiar woman and gave it to Izzy. 'What do you know about this woman?' Mycroft noticed Izzy's reaction and his eyebrows knitted together.

'Nothing whatsoever.' Both Sherlock and Izzy replied at the same time, sharing an incredulous glance as John face palmed.

'Oh god, there are two of them.' He muttered into his hand.

'Then you should be paying more attention. She's been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately.' Mycroft kept his gaze fixed firmly on Izzy who had now wiped herself clean of all the "tells" that could let him know she was lying.

'You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?' Sherlock spoke in a bored voice.

'Irene Adler, professionally know as The Woman.'

'Professionally?' John spoke, confused, causing Izzy to laugh and whisper into Sherlock's ear.

'How is he so innocent?'

'There are many names for what she does. She prefers 'dominatrix'.' Mycroft smirked at Sherlock who echoed.

'Dominatrix.'

'Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex.' Izzy's eyes flashed to Sherlock and she suppressed the urge to raise an incredulous eyebrow.

'Sex doesn't alarm me.' Sherlock muttered, quickly followed by Mycroft's snide response.

'How would you know?' At that Izzy couldn't suppress the very unladylike snort which escaped her.

'Is that true?' She asked him quietly.

'Oh don't act like you have done it either. Mycroft may not be able to see the way you tense up every time it is mentioned, but it is painfully obvious to me.' He muttered into her ear.

'She provides- shall we say- recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it.' Mycroft pulled out more papers and handed them to Sherlock. 'These are all from her website.'

'And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs.' He looked up at his brother.

'You're very quick, Mr. Holmes' The older man said.

'It's hardly difficult if you pay attention. Photos of who?' Izzy asked.

'Whom.' Sherlock automatically corrected her.

'A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say anymore at this time.' This caused an immediate glare from Sherlock.

'You can't tell us anything?'

'I can tell you it's a young person.' Mycroft replied to John's question. 'A young _female _person.' He elaborated.

'How many photographs?' Sherlock asked.

'A considerable number, apparently.' Mycroft pursed his lips, nervous.

'Do Miss Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?' Izzy raised an eyebrow at Sherlock and muttered.

'Perv.' He ignored her, focusing on Mycroft.

'Yes, they do.'

'And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios.'

'An imaginative range, we are assured.' Mycroft replied. Izzy noticed John with his teacup half way to his lips and not moving anywhere any time soon.

'John, you might want to put that cup back in your saucer now.' He nodded and quickly complied as the older gentleman continued his streak of ignoring her and spoke avidly to Sherlock.

'Can you help us, Mr. Holmes?'

'How?'

'Will you take the case?'

'What case? Pay her, now and in full/ as Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, 'Know when you are beaten'.' He turned to grab his coat and leave, only to be stopped by Mycroft's next words.

'She doesn't want anything.' Sherlock slowly turned back, handling his coat to Izzy who draped it over her shoulders, covering the semi-revealing outfit. 'She got in touch, she informed up that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favour.' Sherlock raised an eyebrow, finally interested.

'Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?' John rolled his eyes, going to reprimand him when Izzy spoke up.

'Oh yes.' Sherlock glanced sideways at her, amused, before turning back to Mycroft.

'Where is she?'

'Uh, in London currently. She's staying…' He was cut off by Sherlock, who had stood, taken Izzy's hand and begun to lead her out of the room.

'Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day.' The other three stood, the old man speaking out.

'Do you think you'll have news by then?'

'No, I think I'll have the photographs.'

'One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think.' That certainly got Sherlock's attention. He turned to the man, obviously making deductions as he watched him.

'I'll need some equipment of course.' Izzy smiled slightly, realising this was his way of letting the man know never to underestimate him.

'Anything you'll require. I'll have sent to…' He was cut off by Sherlock.

'Can I have a box of matches?' he smiled at the man.

'I'm sorry?' He looked confused.

'Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do.' He held out his hand.

'I don't smoke.'

'No, you don't smoke but your employer does.' Izzy swore she could see a touch of pride in the expression of the older Holmes as she spoke to the man, who looked at her with interest for the first time.

'We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about that fact Miss…?' She didn't answer and Sherlock merely said.,

'We're not the commonwealth .' He grabbed the lighter and turned away, making John apologise for him.

'And that's as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you.' Izzy rolled her eyes at his words, walking out with Sherlock and throwing over her shoulder.

'No it wasn't.'

Sherlock grinned and added. 'Laters!'

**Hope you guys enjoyed the latest installment. tell my what you think by reviewing. PLEASE :) love you all**


	6. I Know Her

**A/N: I know this is just a short chapter but there is more coming, including the introduction of two characters who will hold very large parts of the story! Yay! **

They soon found themselves in a taxi, John glancing confusedly at his sister and friend. 'Okay, the smoking. How did you know?'

'It was obvious.' Izzy said but didn't elaborate, giving Sherlock the chance to impress John again.

'The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever you see but do not observe.' Izzy elbowed Sherlock in disaproval.

'Observed what?' Sherlock smiled and reached into the coat, currently worn my Izzy, pulling out the ashtray and handing it to Izzy who tossed it in the air, catching it before putting it back in the pocket. They spent the rest of the ride in silence until they arrived in the flat and Sherlock immediately dashed into his bedroom, making a racket. John set down to read but was immediately distracted by the sound, having to call out 'What are you doing?'

'Going into battle, John. I need the right armour.' He stepped out of the room wearing a hi-vis jacket. He shook his head muttering, 'No.' Before turning to Izzy and raising an eyebrow, 'You're still in my clothes. Get changed.' She in turn raised an eyebrow.

'Into what? I have nothing.' He threw a credit card at her which she in turn threw to John. 'I can't go out like this, people will talk. Go buy me some clothes.'

He groaned, standing up and putting a coat on. 'You went to Buckingham Palace in that!' She merely glanced at him in a derogatory manner, making him mutter, 'You're worse than Sherlock, you are!'

…

Some time later they were in another taxi, Sherlock dressed in his normal garb, Izzy in a dark red dress, and John severely questioning the sanity of the two other occupants. 'So what's the plan?' He asked.

'We know her address.' Sherlock spoke as if it was the most simple thing in the world.

'What, just ring her doorbell?'

'Exactly.' Sherlock leant forward to speak to the cab driver, 'Just here, please.'

'You didn't even change your clothes.' John said, exasperated.

'Then it's time to add a splash of colour.' They stepped out of the taxi and into a narrow street, Sherlock pulling his scarf off. They stopped about half way down and John glanced around, 'Are we here?'

'Two streets away, but this'll do.'

'For what?'

'Punch me in the face.' Sherlock's words brought an incredulous response.

'Punch you?'

'Yes. Punch me, in the face.' He gestured to his cheek. 'Didn't you hear me?'

'I always hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext.' John said, making Izzy grin.

'Amen to that.' Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered.

'Oh, for God's sake!' He punched John square in the face.

'Well, that's one way to do it.' Izzy muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall as she watched the two boys fighting, ending with John locking his arm around Sherlock's neck.

'Okay! I think we're done now, John.' Sherlock choked out.

'You wanna remember, Sherlock; I was a soldier. I killed people.'

'You were a Doctor!'

'I had bad days!' John pulled away, panting, both men nodding to each other before standing straight.

'Let's get going then.' John said, stepping forward only to stop and see Sherlock staring at Izzy.

'You know her.' He spoke matter-of-factly.

'Yep.'

'She knows you.'

'Yep.' She put her hands behind her back as John looked between them.

'Please tell me not in a… sexual… way.' John pleaded.

'Oh no. We just have a mutual… friend.' Izzy pursed her lips. 'You two get in first. I'll come when she's distracted talking to you.'

**A/N: So, the usual, please review yadda yadda yadda. But i also have exciting news; I hae created a RP forum for Sherlock. This is the address:**

** myforums/TeamElijahnKlaus/4224657/**

**I'd love you guys to check it out, all character are available apart from Sherlock! so run like the wind!**


	7. Reunion

**A/N: wow, over three hundred of you guys thought this good enough to read? Thank you so much!**

She had waited for five minutes, only to be given entrance by Kate, who had seen her outside. She stood outside of the room to hear the familiar voice of Irene say, 'Oh, and somebody loved you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too.' She took this as her queue to enter, phone in hand as she received a text.

**Hey. Want to have dinner? x JM**

She shook her head slightly, glancing up to see Irene's naked backside.

'Hi Rene.' She rolled her eyes comically at the woman before sitting down next to Sherlock and texting back. **Can****'****t. Think I may B off the force. Did U have anything to do with that? X IW.**

'Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all.' John had entered and was looking very uncomfortable. He glanced down at the napkin in his hand before holding it out. 'A napkin?'

'Hello Bels.' she smiled at the girl before turning to John, 'Why? Are you feeling exposed?'

'I don't think my brother knows where to look.' Izzy smirked, earning and irked expression for Sherlock who stood and shook out his coat before holding it out to Irene, who walked closer to John , challenging him not to look any lower than her face.

'No, I think he knows exactly where.' She spun on her heel to look at Sherlock who was still looking away, and take the coat from him, 'I'm not sure about you.'

Sherlock gritted his teeth, saying, 'If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's laptop.' Izzy groaned, holding a hand over her eyes and muttering, 'Way, _way, _to much information.'

'You do borrow my laptop.' John said.

'I confiscate it.' Sherlock replied, walking to the fireplace. Irene put the coat on and sat next to Izzy, crossing one leg over the other.

'Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me- I need to know… how was it done?'

'What?' Sherlock glanced at her.

'The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?'

'That's not why I'm here.' Both the boys looked confused and Izzy rolled her eyes, turning to Irene.

'I suppose to have done this you needed darling James?'

'Yep. How is he by the way?' Irene sent a pointed glance to her phone, which buzzed, letting her know he had replied. She ignored Irene's conversation with Sherlock as John walked out of the room and focused on the phone, reading the texts which seemed to be flowing more quickly now.

**Oh. Yeh. Heard bout that business with Pravda. Apparently all of them committed mass suicide in cells. Found in morning with bullets in their heads. No one knows how they got the gun in. x JM **She felt half happy and half disgusted at the news, though she was grateful that he was still looking out for her.

**U know UR a psycho? :D x IW**

**Yep. You love it. x JM **His reply made her grin and she ignored both the weird look Sherlock was giving her and the approving one of Irene.

**U back in London then? x IW**

**Yep. Want to help with latest evil plan? xxx JM**

**Oh God. U put three ****'****x****'****, that means it****'****s something REALLY bad. x IW**

**I****'****ll call you later. xxx JM **She slipped the phone back into her pocket just as the fire alarm went off, just in time to notice how Irene looked to the mirror.

'Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes out priorities.' Sherlock walked to the fireplace and pressed a switch on it's underside, making the mirror move upwards. Behind it was a small safe which Sherlock immediately went to examine. 'Really hope you don't have a baby in here. All right John, you can turn it off now.' He waited a second before repeating himself. ' I said you can turn it off now!' John's reply was muffled but the beeping immediately stopped, unfortunately it seemed the reason for that was the three men who intantly came through the door, their guns waving. The immediately neutralised the people they saw at threats in the room, dragging John and Irene to the floor and making the bad decision of not seeing Izzy as someone to be worried about. 'Hands behind your head!' The leader glared at Sherlock, waving the gun between Sherlock and Izzy before looking at Irene. 'On the floor. Keep it still.'

'Sorry, Sherlock.' John muttered.

'Ms. Adler, on the floor.' She was shoved to the ground, only to glared at the officers.

'Don't you want me on the floor too?' Sherlock asked seriously, making Izzy burst into fits of inappropriate laughter. 'Oh, ignore her. She's mentally impaired, low-functioning sociopath.'

'I want you to open the safe.' The man ignored Izzy and she edged closer to him.

'American. Interesting. Why would you care?' He glanced at Irene.

'Sir, the safe, now, please.'

'I don't know the code.' Sherlock said.

'We've been listening. She said she told you.' The man was completely oblivious.

'Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she didn't.' Sherlock rolled his eyes.

'I'm assume I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't Mr. Holmes.'

'For God's sake. She's the one who knows the code. Ask her.'

'Yes, sir. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman.' The man said.

'Mr. Holmes doesn't…' Irene tried to protest but was quickly stopped by the lead.

'Shut up. One more word out of you- just one- and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship.' Sherlock glared at him harshly.

'Mr. Archer. At the count of three, shoot Doctor Watson.'

'What?' John looked up, shocked.

'I don't have the code.' Sherlock's voice was beginning to strain.

'One.'

'I don't know the code' He said emphatically.

'Two.'

'She didn't tell me. I don't know it.' He practically shouted.

'I'm prepared to believe you any second now.' Izzy groaned quietly, hoping Sherlock would understand what Irene was trying to tell him by the bobbing of her head down to look at her body.

'Three.'

'No, stop!' Sherlock shouted, turning to the safe and slowly typing in the numbers 322334. The safe opened noisily and Sherlock sighed in relief.

'Thank you Mr. Holmes. Open it, please.'

He turned to the lock, about to open it, only to see Irene jerk her head slightly. He stopped and spoke quickly, 'Vatican Cameos!'

**So i have a feeling that quite a few of you guys will have pieced together who the mysterious JM is. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did then please leave a review, it makes my day when you do. All contructive criticism is encouraged, so even if you've not enjoyed it than please tell me what you didnt like so i can work on it - xoxo IW**


	8. No Connection

**A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter! And remember that if you enjoy this, to chec out my RP forum. Many characters available!**

With that both he and John ducked, avoiding the bullet which hit the agent behind John. Izzy took advantage of the distraction to flick her foot round, catching the leader and making him fall to the floor. She stomped on his nose, breaking it and making the blood drip down his face and one eye begin to swell. She turned to see Irene dispose of the second hit man, whipping the gun across his face and knocking him unconscious. John examined the man hit by the bullet and looked up, 'He's dead.'

Irene smiled up at Sherlock, while continuing to aim the pistol at the unconscious man. 'Thank you. You were very observant.'

'Observant?' John looked confused as usual.

'I'm flattered.' Irene winked at him, biting her lip.

'don't be. You are one larger than Isabel and she is both shorter than you and has problems with her weight.' Izzy rolled her eyes and hit him on the shoulder reflexively.

'Flattered?' John looked between the three people.

'There'll be more of them. They'll be keeping an eye on the building.' Without any other indication of his plans he hurried out of the room, followed by John. Irene hurried to the safe, staring wide eyes at the lack of contents before turning back to Izzy, who was watching her, grinning.

'Let get to the boys before they end up shooting each other.' Irene nodded and followed the shorter girl out, only to be pulled back in as the boys re-entered.

'Check the rest of the house. See how they got in.' Sherlock said to John, who exited. He took the phone out of his pocket and tossed it into the air, half smiling at Izzy, 'Well that's the knighthood in the bag.'

'Ah. And that's mine.' Irene held out her hand expectantly, though unsurprised when Sherlock refused to give it to her.

'All of the photographs are on her, I presume.'

'I have copies, of course.' Irene blatantly lied.

'No you don't. You'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink of connection. Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them.' He said smugly as Irene lowered her hand, glaring.

'Who said I'm selling?'

'Well, why would _they _be interested? Whatever's on the phone, it's clearly not just photographs.'

'That camera phone is my life, Mr. Holmes. I'd die before I let you take it.' she walked closer to him, looking to Izzy for support, 'It's my protection.' There was the muffled sound of John shouting for his friend from upstairs as Sherlock looked at Irene pointedly, putting the phone back and grasping Izzy by the elbow, 'It _was._' With that Sherlock pulled Izzy out of the room, into a bedroom, where Kate was lying unconscious on the floor.

'Must have come in this way.' John nodded to the open window in the en suite bathroom.

'Clearly.' Sherlock rolled his eyes, only to get hit again by Izzy, 'Ow! You're very violent, you know.' He muttered in her ear as Irene sent John out the room.

'And you're very rude. I'm a soldier, you're a thinker.' She hissed back as they observed Irene turn back to them from looking at her dresser.

'You're very calm.' She looked around out him, as if not comprehending, 'Well, your booby trap did just kill a man.'

'He would have killed me. It was self defence in advance.' she smiled sweetly, walking over to Sherlock, rubbing a hand down his arm before moving behind the both of them and jabbing a syringe into his arm.

'What? What is that? What…?' He turned as if trying to grab it, only to stumble and be caught by Izzy, who lowered him to the ground gently.

'Shh. It's okay. You're okay.' Izzy murmured, pulling out the syringe as he dropped the phone to the ground, giving Irene the opportunity to pick it up. Izzy glared at Irene as she brushed the hair off of Sherlock's forehead, trying to sooth him.

'Now tell that sweet little posh thing the pictures are safe with me. They're not for blackmail, just for insurance. Besides, I might want to see her again.' Sherlock grunted, trying to lift himself up, only to fail and fall back into Izzy's lap. 'Oh, no, no, no. Its been a pleasure. Don't spoil it. This is how I want you to remember me. The woman who beat you. Goodnight Mr. Holmes.' She moved away from the two of them, giving Izzy the universal gesture for call me before being interrupted by John. Izzy ignored their conversation, focusing on the mumbling Sherlock. She stroked his hair, trying to comfort him as the police arrived, loading him into the car and taking them back to 221b Baker Street.

**Hope you enjoyed. Please review if you did, it makes my day!**


	9. Why Would I Need You?

Izzy stayed with Sherlock the whole night, not so much of her own accord but more due to the fact that in this drugged state Izzy seemed, to Sherlock, the only person in the world he needed right then. She eventually drifted off to sleep, only to wake up to Sherlock shouting in her ear, 'John!' as soon as he shouted he managed to lose his balance, falling on top of the woman and in to much of s drug-induced stupor to notice. John came through the door realising the predicament after seeing that Sherlock was perched on his sister's stomach like a kitten, his head resting on her chest as his half-lidded eyes looked around the room.

'You okay?' He asked his sister.

'How did I get here? Where's my pillo- oh…' He half lifted himself to look down at the infuriated girl, staring for a second before rolling off of her and lying next to her on the bed, turning his head to the side to look at the two Watsons.

'Well, I don't suppose you remember much. You weren't making much sense… and you were cuddling Izzy, which was worrying in itself. Oh, I should warn you: I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone.' Izzy grimaced standing to leave, muttering.

'He better be prepared for a bullet in his brain if he so much as _thinks _of-'

'And that is why I took your gun.' John muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. Sherlock interrupted their little spat by getting to his feet and speaking incoherently.

'Where is she?'

'Where's who?' John asked.

'The woman. That woman.'

'Well if you're referring to me, 1. I have a name, and 2. Sorry, not my type.' She smirked, counting off reasons on her fingers as John just looked between them, confused as always.

'What woman? Izzy?'

'No, not _her!__'_He spat. '_The _woman. The _Woman _Woman!' He began stumbling around the room.

'What, Irene Adler? She got away. No one saw her.' John said as Sherlock went to look out the window. 'She wasn't here, Sherlock.' Sherlock fell and John rolled his eyes, watching as he dragged himself around the floor. 'What are you…? What…? No, no, no, no.' He picked up Sherlock and hauled him over to the bed before dropping him face-down. 'Back to bed.' He covered him with a sheet almost tenderly, 'You'll be fine in the morning. Just sleep.' Izzy watched her brother interact with his flat mate with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

'Of course I'll be fine. I _am_ fine. I'm absolutely fine.' Sherlock muttered rolling over, 'At least your sister had the decency not to disturb me.'

'You called _me! _Whatever, I'll be on the sofa if you need me.' He turned to Izzy, 'You can take the bed.'

'Why would I need you?' Sherlock spoke around the pillow that his head was currently buried in.

'No reason at all.' John shrugged, walking out the room followed by Izzy, who quickly claimed the couch.


	10. Oh No You Don't

The next morning she was woken by Sherlock clapping his hands above her head. She jerked up, automatically going to chop her assailant in the neck only to have it blocked and her wrist taken hold of by a grumpy Sherlock.

'Get off my sofa.'

'Why should I?' She continued to lay down on the sofa, merely crossing her arms over chest and raising an eyebrow.

'You don't even live here!' He growled.

'Good point.' The voice of Mycroft came through from her kitchen as he popped his head round, smiling coldly at the two of them. 'Izzy, we need to talk.' She nodded compliantly, the soldier in her coming out, moving into the kitchen and speaking in a hush with Mycroft.

…

A few minutes later John had made everyone coffee which no one had touched, and Sherlock and Mycroft were in a stand off. 'The photographs are perfectly safe.' Sherlock said coolly.

'In the hands of a fugitive sex worker.' Mycroft finished.

'She's not interested in blackmail. She wants.. Protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?'

'Haw can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied.'

'she'd applaud your choice of words. You see how this works: that camera phone is her "Get out of jail free" card. You have to leave her alone, treat her like royalty, Mycroft.'

'Though not the way _she _treats royalty.' John added, making Izzy roll her eyes.

'Not funny.' She muttered as her phone went off with a new ring tone, as did Sherlock's. While his was one which obviously came from Irene herself, Izzy's was the groan of a familiar male. She smirked, shaking her head as she pulled out her phone, reading the text quickly; **Morning x JM**

**Loving the new ringtone. Make that sound by yourself did you? xx IW** She didn't get a reply and nodded to herself, putting the phone back in her pocket to see John and Mycroft glancing between the two of them.

'What was that?' John frowned.

'Text.' Sherlock muttered, trying to look unconcerned.

'But what was that noise?'

'Now don't tell me you've never made a girl make that noise John.' Izzy raised an eyebrow at him as he glared at her.

'You're my sister.'

'Good deduction. You could be the next Sherlock.' She said sarcastically.

'You can't say that! I'm not talking with my sister about my sex life!' John groaned, wiping a had over his face tiredly.

'Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John, Izzy and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess.' Sherlock sat at the table, going to look over at the newspaper.

'Yeah, _thanks _for that, Mycroft.' John joined in with the berating of the elder Holmes. Mycroft nodded slightly, turning to Izzy and mentally preparing for the tongue-lashing he was about to receive, however she just raised her mug of coffee and smiled.

'Eh, it was fun. I mean, who _doesn__'__t _want to break someone's nose without repercussions?' John snorted into his tea at her serious question. Mrs. Hudson began bustling around, putting food on the table as she spoke.

'It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes.'

'Oh, shut up, Mrs. Hudson.' Mycroft snapped, making both of the other men swivel on their chairs to glare at him.

'MYCROFT!' The inhabitants of 221b shouted furiously as Izzy whacked him over the head. He looked at the angry looks on their faces and cringed, rubbing the back of his head as he let out a strained apology to Mrs. Hudson.

'Apologies.'

'Thank you.' She replied, ever the kind old lady. Izzy walked over to the table on Sherlock's other side, just in time to head him speak.

'Though do, in fact, shut up.' She whacked him over the back of the head, earning a glare as his phone went off again.

'Ohh. It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?' Mrs. Hudson looked over at Sherlock, eyebrows raised. A statement which he fully ignored.

'There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see.' Sherlock said.

'I can put maximum surveillance on her.'

'Why bother?' Sherlock started, only to be cut off by Izzy.

'She's on twitter. Quite twitter famous, she is.' She grinned, holding her phone out.

'Called 'TheWhipHand'.' Sherlock glared at the younger girl.

'Yes. Most amusing.' Mycroft's phone rung and he took it from his pocket, muttering, ' 'Scuse me. Izzy.' He nodded to her and she followed him out of the room, taking part in a hushed conversation on the landing.

…

Mycroft and Izzy were just finishing up the call as they returned to the room, Mycroft saying, 'Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot.' They hung up to see Sherlock looking between the two murderously before calming and asking Mycroft.

'What else does she have?' Mycroft glanced at him, feigning confusion at the statement, 'Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more.' Sherlock stood to look at his brother accusingly, '_Much _more. Something big is coming, isn't it?'

'Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this.' Mycroft ordered his brother.

'Oh will I?' Sherlock smirked.

'Yes, Sherlock, you _will._' Izzy backed Mycroft up. Folding her arms over her chest to glare at the dark-haired man.

'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend.' Mycroft turned to leave.

'Oh, Mycroft?' Izzy stopped him, smiling cheekily, 'Can I catch a lift to the gym?'

'Of course.' He nodded, moving to sit in an armchair as she dashed to get her kit. After a moment she returned with her kit bag slung over her shoulder.

She turned to Sherlock, 'Do you want to come as well? You know, get rid of skinny rats-arse Sherlock and… Oh I don't know,' She shrugged, 'Bulk up a bit?'

' What? In the way you are doing at the moment? You've already gained a pound since you've been here.' His words had an immediate effect on the girl who stiffened and turned slowly to Mycroft, muttering.

'I'll wait in the car.' She quickly left to room, leaving Mycroft to glared harshly at his brother.

'You just cannot keep your mouth shut can you?' He held out a memory stick to Sherlock, who snatched it, and put his fingers on the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself. 'Just read that before she gets back, will you?' With that he left to the car.


	11. Christmas At 221B

Christmas in 221B was never an ordinary affair. But then, things surrounding Sherlock Holmes rarely were. Sherlock had begun playing 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' at Mrs. Hudson's request and all but one forseen member of the party had arrived. In the flat were John, his current girlfriend whom everyone had already forgotten the name of, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and the festive Sherlock. He finished with a flourish as Mrs. Hudson grinned, uttering his praises 'Sherlock. That was lovely! I wish you could have worn the antlers.'

He smiled as one would to a child talking of imaginary beings and said 'Some things are best left to the imagination Mrs. Hudson.' He turned as John's girlfriend offered him a selection of food stuffs, 'Oh, no thank you Sarah.'

Immediately John ran over, trying to cover for his friends mistake 'no no no no no. He's not good with names'

Sherlock forced down a smirk as he continued his little game. 'No, I can get this. There was the Doctor, then there was the one with spots, then the one with the nose. Who was after the boring teacher?'

The woman crossed her arms, annoyed. 'Nobody.'

'Jeanette!' he seemed delighted with the result, 'Process of elimination.' He turned away as John served to comfort her and try to make things right, only turning back to groan, 'Oh, dear lord.'

Standing in the entrance to the flat was a bundled up Molly Hooper, with a goffy smile on her face as always and a bag of Christmas presents.

'Hello everyone, it said on the door just to come up.' She was immediately greeted by the members of the gathering.

'Oh yes, lets just all say hello to each other.' Sherlock muttered sarcastically as she took off her coat to the appreciative views of those there.

'I brought a friend along as well, I hope you don't mind?' She was quickly given affirmation.

'it's the one day of the year the boys have to be nice to me.' Mrs. Hudson informed the mortician proudly.

'How's the hip?' Molly asked as Sherlock and John bother huddled over the computer, looking at the jammed hit counter of Johns blog.

'Its atrocious, but thanks for asking.'

'I have seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems.' This was met with a stony silence and she muttered 'Oh god sorry.'

'Don't make jokes Molly,' Sherlock snapped. Molly and Greg had just begun to make small talk when Sherlock interrupted, making Lestrade grimace and walk away.

'And John, I hear you're off to your sisters?' Molly continued trying to make small talk against the impossible foe. 'Sherlock was complaining- saying' she quickly tried to correct herself.

'First time ever she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze.' Just as John smiled at the thought of his elder sister and himself being reunited, Sherlock cut in.

'Nope.'

'Shut up, Sherlock.' He growled, wishing he wouldn't believe the high-functioning sociopath in front of him.

This time Sherlock turned to Molly, allowing his bad mood to control his choice to read her.'I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him.'

'Sorry, what?' She looked at him, confused

'In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift.' Sherlock continued as if she hadn't said a word.

'Take a day off.' John, grimaced, having a feeling he knew where this was going.

Greg did the same, trying to give Sherlock a drink so they could all have a bit of peace. 'Shut up and have a drink.'

'Oh, come on.' He smiled maliciously, 'Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best.' He pointed to the bag, walking towards Molly as he continued, 'It's for someone special, then.

The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrrve on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all.' He only paused for a second to breath, on a roll now.

'That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing.' He moved to turn over the gift tag to see who the secret suitor was.

'Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts ...' He came to an abrupt halt as he read the tag:

_Dearest Sherlock_

_Love Molly xxx_

In the uncomfortable silence a familiar voice filled the room, causing Sherlock's head to snap round, a grin forming on his face as all thought of the embarrassment Molly just faced flew out his mind

'Oh I _am _disappointed.' A shadow separated herself from the hall to grin as the room, 'You had a party and didn't invite me? I mean, it has to be a party with lil' Holmes insulting someone that meanly.'

Isabel had returned.


	12. Care Too Much

'Izzy!' At once John ran towards his dear sister, hugging her tightly and lifting her in the air as if she weighed nothing. Once he placed her down she grinned in return before turning to the other occupants of the room.

'Hope you guys don't mind. I grabbed a lift with Molly dearest over here.' She grabbed the other woman by her waist and pulled her into a half hug before turning on the only person in the room who hadn't given any murmur of greeting, Sherlock Holmes.

She stepped forward slowly, as if not to startle a small creature as he mirrored her actions, smiling slightly. 'Merry Christmas Sherlock.'

He nodded in turn, 'Merry Christmas Isabel.' At that she let out a full blown grin and pounced on him, giving a hug which he returned just as vigorously, much to the surprise of everyone else gathered. After that the party began with as much fervour.

…

Everything came to a sudden halt a few hours later when a familiar gasp came from Sherlock's phone. He read the message, turning to the fireplace and signalling Izzy with a hand before grabbing the blood red present and jetting off to his room, with her following straight after.

She wordlessly sat on the bed as he ripped off the wrapping paper, exposing the one thing which could bring bother of their walls tumbling down.

'She's gone then.' Her words came out in a matter-of-fact manner. Sherlock simply stared at the phone for another second before picking up him own and ringing a number both of them knew well.

'Oh dear Lord. We're not going to have Christmas phone calls now, are we? Have they passed a new law?' Mycroft's sarcastic voice came over on speaker.

'I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight.' Sherlock's voice was a small way away from breaking, she could tell.

'We already know where she is. As you were kind enough to point out, it hardly matters' Mycroft huffed.

'You'll find her dead.' Izzy spat. Sherlock allowed a grimace to cross his features before hanging up. He sat back on the bed, leaning against the wall and pulling his knees up to him, almost a reflection of the damaged child which had never been allowed to surface.

Izzy moved up the bed until she was sitting shoulder to shoulder with him before leaning her head on him and just letting silence take over.

…

Some time later they received a call from Mycroft informing them of the find of a body, which was being sent immediately to the St. Bart's mortuary. Izzy left the room, followed by Sherlock who had been hoping not to have to explain the reasoning of their departure to any one, only to find that there was no one to be found in the flat. It seemed that all the 'guests' had left, with John and Mrs. Hudson downstairs probably having a cup of tea while gossiping for old ladies.

Izzy flagged down a taxi which they both piled into, taking a silent trip, which was only interrupted by the sound of a male gasp, alerting Izzy to a text from her favourite psychopath.

**Merry Christmas. x JM**

Followed quickly by a second.

**Don't worry about our Woman. She's in safe hands. x JM**

Izzy didn't allow the smile to seep onto her face, but replied, hoping he would know how grateful she was for the news.

**Merry Christmas love. Thank you x IW**

Finally the cab pulled up to the hospital, with Sherlock jumping out and herself following, only to be met by Mycroft just outside the mortuary.

'The only one that fitted the description. Had her brought here – your home from home.' Mycroft said smarmily as they walked into the mortuary, met by the one and only Molly Hooper.  
'You didn't need to come in, Molly.' Izzy said kindly  
'That's okay. Everyone else was busy with ... Christmas.' She muttered. 'The face is a bit, sort of, bashed up, so it might be a bit difficult.' She tried to say it sympathetically but is came out in a sharp way.

'That's her, isn't it?' Mycroft asked.  
'Show me the rest of her.' Sherlock directed Molly, making Izzy in turn try to stifle her laughter. Sherlock's eyes took in the body as Molly dragged the sheet down the table, turning away as he answered, 'That's her.' He turned and walked away, leaving Izzy, Mycroft and Molly stood in an awkward silence.  
'Thank you, Miss Hooper.' Mycroft said, ever the government gentleman  
'Who is she? How did Sherlock recognise her from ... not her face?' Molly asked, looking between both Izzy and Mycroft. Izzy just turned to follow Sherlock, soon followed by Mycroft, who grabbed a cigarette and flask from inside his pocket, handing the cigarette to Sherlock, and flask to Izzy.  
'Just the one.' He said warningly to the both of them.  
'Why?' Sherlock asked, ever suspicious, while Izzy just swigged the flask, grimacing at the burning feeling yet glad of the warmth it gave.  
'Merry Christmas.' Was Mycroft's only answer. He dug in his pocket to find a lighter, only to watch Izzy light Sherlock's cigarette, to both of the men's shock.

'What, I'm not allowed to have some secrets?' At the shocked look Mycroft gave her, she roled her eyes, 'I'm joking. Lighters are just useful implements to have. You neve know when you need to set things on fire.'  
Mycroft nodded slowly, 'How did you know she was dead?' He asked Sherlock.  
'She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up.' He took a deep drag, moving by a miniscule amount so as to lean into Izzy's shoulder. His own way, she supposed, of giving comfort to others.  
_'_Where is this item now?' Mycroft asked, ever on the job. Instead of answering, all three of the group were drawn to look at another group of three, a family, standing on the other side of the doors by the end of the corridor.  
_'_Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?' Sherlock glanced at his brother, only to hear a reply from Izzy.

'Never. Emotions are just tools that we use to get our own way.' She glanced up at their expressions, 'What? You actually thought I could be this analytical and feel the same way others do?' She snorted, grabbing another swig of the flask. 'I taught myself at a young age not to feel like others do. It is never good to be blinded by emotion.'

'All lives end. All hearts are broken.' Mycroft glanced down at the two younger people as ha said this, 'Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.'  
_'_This is _low_ tar.' Sherlock muttered after taking another lungful.

'Well, you barely knew her.' Mycroft tried to joke.  
Sherlock merely huffed, putting an arm over Izzy's shoulders to guide her as he walked her down the corridor before caling over his shoulder, 'Merry Christmas, Mycroft.'  
'And a happy New Year.' Mycroft replied quietly, watching the couple.

…

In the cab on the way back Sherlock sat quiet for a long time before finally turning to look at Izzy.

'Is it true, what you said?' He asked.

'Which bit?' She glanced at him for a second before resuming looking at her phone.

'You taught yourself to repress your emotions, so as to use them as a tool.'

'yes.' She answered shortly.

'Why?'

'Because,' She rolled her eyes, exasperated, 'I had been weak. You saw the files… I swore to myself I would never be that weak again.'

'Your lying.' Sherlock said, in a more gentle manner than usual.

'And why would you think that, oh brilliant one?'

'You still suffer from body dysmorphia, which is powered by negative emotions towards yourself. Those emotions were so strong that you've been in hospital for the last month.' At that she turned to face him properly, her eyes burning with anger.

'Did Mycroft tell you that too?'

'Of course not. He wouldn't impart any information on you to me.' He rolled his eyes in return and turned to face her full on, hands moving to point out things as he spoke rapidly, 'You're at least two sizes smaller than when I last saw you, and most left is muscle, which has also been wasting away. Your cheekbones are more pronounced as well, which is due to all available fat reserves being used, and so some being used from your cheeks. This is also the last thing which would start to fill out during your treatment, which is the reason you look still slightly gaunt.'

'None of that is proof of the… you know… returning' She replied quickly, looking away from him.

'No, but the record of you being to put into hospital with it is.' He sighed, moving to brush away hair from her face which was beginning to annoy him. 'Did you really think you could be booked into hospital only a few minutes away and not be found out by me? You only reinforced it when you got a lift to the flat with Molly, who works at the very hospital you stayed at. Come on Izzy, did you really think I wouldn't know?'

She turned away at his tone, sitting in silence until they arrived at their destination. Sherlock jogged up the stairs to be met by Mrs. Hudson and John, soon followed by Izzy, who was still taking sips from the flask Mycroft had given her.

'Oh, hi.' John pretended to be surprised, which both Izzy and Sherlock saw through immediately.

'Hope you didn't mess up the sock collection this time.' Sherlock muttered, moving to his bedroom and slamming the door shut.


	13. Do Or Die

**A/N: THan you so much guys. 1000 view for new year! You guys are amazing, I hope you enjoy this chapter though :) Remember to R & R**

Izzy woke on the sofa to the sound of Sherlock playing his violin.

Groaning, she rolled over to try and put the pillow over her ears, 'It's too early for you to be this sadistic Sherlock.'

'It's almost half ten.' He looked incredulously at her.

'My point.' She snapped, deciding that all hope of sleep was gone. She went into Johns room to grab her suitcase, grabbed a simple, nondescript outfit, only to stand up and find Sherlock standing right behind her, breathing down her neck. She turned, not fully anticipating how close the two of them would be.

'What do you want Sherlock?' She asked venomously.

'Now, now. No need to be so angry.' He smirked, putting one hand on her hip and resting the other round her waist. 'I just thought I'd tell you that you are looking,' he leaned towards her, 'delicious, today.' With that he released her and turned to walk towards the entrance of the flat as if nothing had happened.

She growled under her breath before calling him back, 'Sherlock!' He turned on the balls of his foot to raise his eyebrows at her.

'Yes?'

'What. Was. That?' She growled.

'Well we have to boost your self esteem in some way.' He spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

'And what, you plan on acting in the most Un'sherlockish way?' Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she found herself at a total loss for words.

'Yes.' He nodded curtly before turning back around and calling to her 'I'll be back for lunch.' And with that he closed the door to the flat and left her just to mutter mutinously to herself.

'Don't see why you'd bother letting me know… you never eat it… or are on time.'

With that she just collapsed onto Sherlock's armchair, grabbed her pillow and curled up to sleep, thankful that the Baker Street boys had gone for the moment.

…

Isabel woke from her short nap to the sounds of sobbing and the feeling of cold steel pressing against her forehead. She lifted her eyes to see the three American hitmen who had escaped from Irene's house.

'Oh great. Another visit from the Scooby gang.' She sneered sarcastically, earning a swipe across the face from the pistol. The man she had broken the nose of glared at her before directing his colleague.

'Archer, put her with the other one. Remember how dangerous she is. If she moves a centimetre, put her out of commission.' With a nod the henchman pulled her up, moving her forward by the collar of her shirt before practically throwing her down beside Mrs Hudson. She glanced up taking in the weak points of the three before making eye contact with the leader who narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

'You have no idea who you're dealing with do you?' She smiled in a way which terrified them, almost madly.

'Shut up.' Archer growled, bringing his hand back to hit her over the head again.

'Oh, you really don't. Well you're in for a surprise.' She let out a laugh as the leader took it upon himself to control the situation.

'One more word out of you and I'll blow your brains across the room.' His voice shook as he raised his gun, silencer attached.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly as she let out a small breath with the word she knew could either save her life or end it. 'Moriarty.'

The leader's finger had tightened over the trigger, but he jerked the gun away, knowing what repercussions could apply. This led the bullet straight into the shoulder of the MI6 agent.

Izzy was sent reeling back from the pain, her brain not being able to stop the quiet cry of pain which she let out. She could faintly hear Mrs Hudson letting out a squawk in the background before sobbing even more hysterically, but could only focus on the drumming sound of the blood beating her ears. She was slightly more accustomed to the pain and began to function unconsciously, having been shot once before, on an assignment. It isn't too hard to guess that the assailant did not live very long after that moment, though not from her own efforts but that of a 'friend'.

She looked down to see her left arm already pressing against the wound on the right shoulder, stauncing the blood flow as much as possible until first aid was found. She knew who they were waiting for, and looking at the clock she hoped he wouldn't be long, 'Come on you stupid man. Be on time for once.' She muttered under her breath.

She wasn't disappointed.


	14. Arrival

**I thought that to celebrate new year I would release this chapter, that I wasn't planning on sending out till next week. Enjoy :)**

Sherlock was there, standing in the doorway like her knight in shining armour. He took in the situation in one glance and walked forward slowly as Mrs Hudson sobbed harder, crying out quietly 'Oh, Sherlock, Sherlock!'

'Don't snivel, Mrs Hudson. It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet. Though that seems to have happened aready' He replied, looking from Mrs Hudson to Izzy, who was still clutching her shoulder. He looked up at Neilson, already planning what fires would burn in hell for him.  
_'_Oh, please, sorry, Sherlock.' Mrs Hudson kept speaking under her breath almost as a mantra to focus on.  
The leader interrupted the moment 'I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Holmes.'  
'Then why don't you ask for it?' He hissed in reply, moving towards both Izzy and Mrs Hudson. He put a hand up Izzy's arm, fingers just brushing towards the wound. He head was tilted down, but his eyes looked up at her, worry shining in them.  
'I'll be fine.' She murmured, only to hiss in pain as he touched the wound slightly.  
'I've been asking this one.' The leader nudged Mrs Hudson forcefully, obviously still shaken from what he had heard, 'She doesn't seem to know anything.'

Sherlock kept gazing between Izzy and Mrs Hudson, noticing the ripped collar of Mrs Hudson's blouse.  
'But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr. Holmes?' The leader continued, oblivious.

Izzy bristled at the man. 'Well you know, you can always stick it up your-' Sherlock managed to cut her off just in time.

'Not the best time.' His voice was soft as he swept his gaze higher, noticing the cuts on both of the women's faces, then observing the blood on the ring on the leader's hand and the barrel of the gun one of his men were holding.  
'I believe I do.' He spoke up to the man, straightening up and speaking authoritatively 'First, get rid of your boys.'  
'Why?' The American was cautious of a trick  
'I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room.' Sherlock came back with the traditional snarky remark that Izzy had been dying to make, but unable to.  
_'_You two, go to the car.' The American agreed, hesitantly sending his men away from the angry sociopath.  
'Then get into the car and drive away.' Said sociopath continued the American's sentence, looking back to the leader, 'Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work.' Once the men left the room he continued, 'Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me.'  
'So you can point a gun at me?'  
'I'm unarmed.' He stepped back and spread his arms  
'Mind if I check?'  
'Oh, I insist.' At that Izzy let out a quiet wolf whistle, which Sherlock took note of and half smiled at her in response, winking. The American walked to Sherlock and began patting him down, front first. When he reached the back Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed a sanitizer spray can from the table, twisting to spray in the American's eyes. As he let out a screech, Sherlock headbutted him in the face, making him unconscious.  
_'_Moron.' Sherlock grinned, more for the benefit of the two women present.  
He ran over to the two of them, taking one of Mrs Hudson's hands and placing his other on Isabel's knee, squeezing it softly._'_You're all right now, you're all right.' He murmured, hoping to calm the hysterical woman, and the one who seemed to be in shock.  
…

By the time John returned to 221B, Sherlock had fully tied up the agent, calmed Mrs Hudson and was midway through calling the police and an ambulance. As John walked through the door to the flat he was just in time to hear Sherlock add, looking at the American, 'Actually, we might need a second ambulance Lestrade. Oh no, the rest of us are fine, it's the Burglar. He's got himself rather badly injured.'

Greg's voice carried quietly over the phone, asking, 'What's his injuries?'

'Oh, a few broken ribs, fractured skull, suspected punctured lung,' Sherlock paused, glancing back at the younger Watson and taking in the constant blood flow from her shoulder, 'And I think he might have broken his neck.' He hung up to the silence that filled the room. John looked between the three of them before rushing over to take in both women's injuries, moving to examine Izzy's shoulder but being quickly brushed off. The three of them stood, moving to leave the room while leaving Sherlock to deal with the American. Izzy was the last to leave, popping her head round the door after a second and tutting, smirking at the man as she said 'well, you are in trouble.'

…

A few minutes later the distinctive blue flashing lights let the occupants of Baker Street know that Lestrade had arrived with the ambulances. John immediately looked towards his sister, who had been rapidly declining as she slumped further and further down her chair. The door opened with a familiar voice shouting, 'Police!'

'In here.' John directed them, sharing a look with Lestrade who nodded to one of his people, who promptly ran to alert the ambulance crew to one of the injured parties. The IC crew immediately ran through to assess the wounds and within two minutes she was on her way to St Bart's. John had stayed behind, seeing to his moral duty as a doctor and friend to look after Mrs Hudson.

**I know this isn't a good ending for the chapter, but this is just informing you of the proceedings before you are introduced to one of the most mysterious characters soon **


	15. Happy New Year

It had grown dark a few hours prior and Izzy could already hear the sound of revelries through the open window.

'Great. Stuck in a hospital for New Year.' She muttered under her breath.

John had of course called her with the strenuous apology for different things he had no control over, only stopping when both herself and Sherlock had told him to shut up multiple times. Sherlock himself had sent a text which had simply comprised of : Happy New Year. Heal up quickly- SH

She had of course had a greeting from Irene, who had finally realised that Izzy was one of the few people in the loop of the current situation, but was surprised to find that the one person whom she had been keeping a constant dialog with, had not sent anything.

'Well look what the cat dragged in.' She was brought out of her thoughts by a familiar Irish lilt, looking up to see one of the greatest criminal masterminds that the world had ever seen.

'Isn't that my line?' She raised an eyebrow, pushing herself up onto her elbows, the two of them in a silent standoff, both staying totally still for a few seconds before Jim Moriarty, the consultant criminal, rushed forwards to give his girl a hug. She winced as he brushed over her bandaged wound, but the grin never left her face as he pulled back to look her over.

'You seem to be getting injured more and more 'Beau.'

'It comes with the profession.' She smirked in response, moving to try and look into the bag he had brought along with him. 'Ooh, did you bring me presents?'

'Of course,' He grinned, placing the bag on the bed, 'I couldn't let my favourite girl celebrate the New Year without some of the good stuff, could I?' At that her interest immediately sparked.

'So none of that alcohol free rubbish?'

'Never!' Jim tried to look offended, but ended up letting out a bar of laughter, 'I don't understand why they are trying to wean you off on of the only good things in this world.' He glanced down at her, pulling out the bottle, 'Moet ma'am?'

She laughed in return, licking her lips at the thought of the famous brand. 'And now I remember why I love you Mr Moriarty.'

'And I always thought it was my dashing good looks.' He smirked at her, slinging his legs onto the bed and grabbing the remote for the TV in the corner of the room. 'Now let see what's on television.' It turned on with slight static to show the toll of Big Ben, announcing the entering of the New Year.

Izzy was surprised to feel her head turned towards Jim and have a soft kiss placed on her lips. She pulled away after a second to see him give her a soft smile, murmuring 'Happy New Year.'

'Happy New Year to you too.' She looked away, biting her lip in a way he couldn't resist.

'I-'Just as he began to speak the sound of a mobile ringing came through, playing the Titanic theme tune. He rolled his eyes growling, 'Sebastian.' Before turning to her and looking apologetic, 'I _do _have to get this-'

'Its fine.' She cut him off, reaching over to grab the opened Moet, 'I can keep myself entertained.' He nodded curtly and got up.

'What do you want Seb?' He spat into the phone as he walked from the room. After a moment of listening to the man he allowed a half smile to grace his features as he was reminded of a similar event, not too long ago. _But last time it was her life in the line _A voice told him, _And now we can make sure that never happens again. _

Back in the hospital room Izzy was thinking, her head going through all the information she had received recently and "deleting" that which she didn't need.

She in turn had been interrupted by the sound of her own phone ringing. She snatched it up off the bedside to see the familiar caller ID, Mycroft Holmes. She smiled fondly at the accompanying photograph, taken after her first mission.

'_I think that just about wraps it up' Mycroft leant back in his chair, smiling at the 16 year old Isabel. She sat in her own chair, arms clutching the rests. He had noticed how uncomfortable she was throughout the debrief, though he made no mention of it. He, unlike his younger brother, did not find a sadistic pleasure in pointing out peoples unconfidences, especially not in front of the present company. As soon as the deputy head of special operations left however, he began to speak more freely to her._

'_You seem uncomfortable.' He raised an eyebrow at her._

'_Yeh, well unlike you, I'm not exactly used to having to present how I killed a man.' She snapped, some fire returning to her eyes._

'_It does seem so, doesn't it?' He leant forward, steepling his fingers.' Well, your mission is finished now. We won't have a use for you for a while, so shall we drop you off at your home?'_

'_No.' She shook her head adamantly, feeling as if she would infect the house that her family lived in if she returned. 'I can't go back there.'_

_He nodded as if he understood her plight, standing and extending a hand towards her, 'Well I do seem to remember that _The Ivy _is only fifteen minutes away, and frankly I am starved. Could I have the pleasure of your company?'_

_She looked up, watching as he smiled kindly down at her and, feeling as if he was trying to be genuinely nice. Nodding, she stood, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her to the car waiting outside._

_The rest of the night was a blur, but it was one of the best nights she had ever experienced. It was the night that Mycroft became her father figure. Less than a week later she was back on missions, but she had been shown by him that she wasn't a terrible person for doing it, she was just one that was brave enough to stop them from doing things more terrible._

She shook herself out of her reverie, answering the call with a smile on her face. 'Hello Mycroft.'

'Isabel.' His voice cracked over that simple word, and he took a deep breath before continuing, 'I'm visiting you as soon as I can, but I won't be able to get out of meetings until at least day after tomorrow.'

'Its fine.' She replied, 'I _can_ look after myself.'

'I'm _sure_.' His voice was laced in sarcasm before turning pleasant again, 'Well I just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year, Isabel.'

'Same to you, Mycroft.' She replied softly, putting her phone back as Moriarty walked back into the room.

'I have to go.' He said matter-of-factly. '

'Oh I'm sure. Plenty of crimes to be done, people to be killed.' She smirked, 'But if you're going, I'm keeping the Moet'

He grinned at her, kissing her forehead before standing to walk to the door, 'I'll see you soon. Loo after yourself Beau.'

'You too Jim.'


	16. Bond

**A/N: I decided to put this chapter up early seeing as I am so happy over the new Sherlock episode. I loved it so much! **

**What did you guys think of it?**

**CHAPTER 16**

A few months had passed and Izzy had fully healed up and moved into 221b, Mrs Hudson allowing her to use the spare room once it was cleared out. She had completed a quick mission involving a heist and so had most of the year as time off after Mycroft pulled a few strings. At that moment she was in the living room, watching Sherlock interrogate Irene, while sipping on a Hot Chocolate. She curled up next to John, occasionally giving some input into the conversation.

'So, who's after you?' Sherlock asked.  
'People who want to kill me.' Irene replied matter-of-factly.  
'Who's that?'  
'Killers.' Izzy grinned at Irene's reply.

'So helpful.' She laughed as John spoke at the same time.  
'It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific.'  
'So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them.' Sherlock said.  
'It worked for a while.' She shrugged.  
'You probably shouldn't have let everyone from your previous life know if you wanted it to work for longer' Izzy said, smirking.  
' I knew _you'd_ keep my secret.' She nodded to Izzy.  
'_You_ couldn't.' Sherlock cut in.  
'But you _did_, didn't you? Where's my camera phone?'  
'It's not here. We're not stupid.' John said, putting his arm around his sister who just smirked before speaking.

'Well there are two high-functioners here… And John.' He rolled his eyes at her antics.  
'Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you.' Irene said.  
'If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago.' Sherlock smirked.  
'I need it.'  
'Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?' He turned to look at Sherlock, slowly coming up with an idea, 'Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take it to Bart's; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back.'  
' Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions.' Sherlock smiled, winking at Izzy who was furiously trying to conceal her laughter.  
'Thank you.' He picked up his phone in preparation to call Molly, 'So, why don't ... Oh, for ...' he trailed off as Izzy grabbed the phone out of her back pocket, twirling it round in her hand.  
'So what do you keep on here – in general, I mean?' Sherlock said as he stood to grab the phone from her hand.  
'Pictures, information, anything I might find useful.'  
'So how do you acquire this information?'

'I told you – I misbehave.' Irene looked to Izzy, 'A career you should consider if you ever actually let go of your prudishness.'  
'She's fine as she is.' Sherlock cut in, ruffling Izzy's hair in an unusual show of affection before turning back to Irene. 'But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?'  
'Yes, but I don't understand it.'  
'I assumed.' He shared a look with Izzy, 'Show me.' Irene put her hand out for her phone, only for it to be pulled out of her reach as he said, 'The passcode.'  
When she continued to hold her hand out, he let out a long suffering sigh and handed it to her, only for her to type in the numbers and it to beep in warning as she glared at it, 'It's not working.'  
'No, because it's a duplicate that Izzy had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight.' He took the phone, retrieving the real one from his coat pocket 'I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but, um, thanks anyway.' He typed the number into it and was angered to find that it rejected the code.  
_'_I _told_ you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand.'  
'Oh, you're rather good.'  
'She learnt from the best.' Izzy smirked, putting her drink down and moving towards Sherlock, keeping her gaze on him as he returned it, a contemplative half smile on his face.  
'Hamish.' John cut in, causing all three of them to look at him, 'John Hamish Watson – just if you were looking for baby names.'  
'Never, John. You'd be the uncle anyway.' She said while Sherlock looked on, confused.  
'There was a man – an MOD official. I knew what he liked.' She typed the password to her phone, bringing up a photo, ' One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it.' She handed it to Sherlock, not letting Izzy look, 'He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen – can you read it?'  
'Yes.' Sherlock answered, sitting down while he focused.  
' A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it – though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out.'  
'Why didn't you ask me to look?' Izzy asked, being silenced by a look.  
'What can _you_ do, Mr. Holmes?' She leant over his shoulder, whispering in his ear, so no one else could hear, 'I'm sure Isabel would be impressed.'  
'There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds.' Sherlock spoke quickly, Izzy's face contorting into anger as she heard the details. _'_Oh, come on. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look: there's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K' – the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number – zero zero seven – that eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport.'  
He stood, lowering the phone and turning to Irene, glancing covertly at Izzy, not understanding the angry glare sent his way as she furiously typed on her phone. 'Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language.' He muttered to Irene.  
'I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice.' As she stared at him, he returned her gaze, eyes moving to between her and the other woman.

'John, please can you check those flight schedules; see if I'm right?'  
'Uh-huh. I'm on it, yeah.' John coughed, muttering under his breath, 'Damn right I'm the uncle.'  
_'_I've never begged for mercy in my life.'  
'Twice.'

Looking up from her phone, Izzy growled, 'I'd make it three.'  
' Uh, yeah, you're right. Uh, flight double oh seven.'  
'What did you say?' He turned, looking through his mind for the cross reference between 007 and something else he'd heard.  
'You're right.'  
'No, no, no, after that. What did you say after that?' He said, beginning to work himself up  
'Double oh seven. Flight double oh seven.'  
'Double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh seven ... something ... something connected to double oh seven ... What?' He continued to pace and Izzy looked at Irene.

'Don't you dare 'Rene. This is bigger than just you.' She merely smirked back, typing behind her back.  
_;_Double oh seven, double oh seven, what, what, something, _what_?' Isabel rolled her eyes, finally tired of his searching for an answer.

'Bond, Sherlock.' She said quickly as she moved to walk out the door.

'Izzy, where are you going?' John looked, concerned for his sister.

'Out. I need to try and repair something.'


	17. 5 Seconds

By the time night fell, Izzy had been present for meetings with the head of operations for a total of 3 countries, as well as both the Prime Minister and the head of defence. All in all she was exhausted, but she still had one thing to do.

Mycroft had driven with her to their destination: the site of the now ended 'Bond Air'. There they stood, waiting for the person who had ruined it all. The stood in the shadows as he walked onto the plane, examining the corpses in their seats.

'The Coventry conundrum.' Mycroft walked out, walking forward with her a pace behind. 'What do you think of my solution?'

'The flight of the dead.' Izzy spoke, watching as Sherlock was jolted straight almost by the physical force of her voice.

'The plain blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of casualties but nobody dies.'

'Neat, don't you think. You've been stumbling round the fringes of this one for ages, or were you too bored to notice the pattern?'

'We ran a project with the Germans just like it, though one of our passengers didn't quite make the flight.' Izzy said coldly.  
_'_But that's the deceased for you – late, in every sense of the word.' Mycroft quipped.

'That was a terrible joke.' She muttered.  
How's the plane going to fly?' He answered himself, 'Of course: unmanned aircraft. Hardly new.'  
' It _doesn't_ fly. It will _never_ fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished.'  
'Your MOD man.'  
'That's all it takes: one lonely naïve man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special.'

'Hmm. You should screen your defence people more carefully.' He raised an eyebrow  
'I'm not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock; I'm talking about _you_.'  
_'_The damsel in distress.' Izzy rolled her eyes.

'In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook: the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption; then give him a puzzle and watch him dance.'  
'Don't be absurd.' Sherlock muttered  
'Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really _eager_ to impress?'  
'Less than five seconds. But then again, I did tell him that Bels would be impressed.' The Woman walked down the aisle from behind Mycroft, putting a hand on Izzy's shoulder as she passed, 'And even I could see that glint you got when he was clever. You really were impressed.'  
'I drove you into her path.' He paused, looking between Sherlock and Izzy, 'I'm sorry.' He lowered his eyes, 'I didn't know.'  
_'_Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk.' Irene said, walking towards both the Holmes brothers  
'So do I. There are a number of aspects I'm still not quite clear on.' Sherlock replied.  
'Not you, Junior. You're done now.' She walked past him, to Mycroft.  
'There's more ... loads more. On this phone I've got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me – unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother.'


End file.
